


The Rickest Rick and the Mortyest Morty

by mortysmithh



Series: Rick and Morty porn [4]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Age change I guess??, Frottage, Grinding, Gro ss, Incest, M/M, Mild Angst, age gap, mild descriptions of gore, uhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:05:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortysmithh/pseuds/mortysmithh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Anon on Tumblr!!</p><p>"would LOVE a rick/morty fic with a super nervous rick getting high and morty getting super touchy and loveable and clingy about wanting to be his rick's only morty? (id love for it leading to awkward sex too, bonus points if rick is younger because of an accident in the lab)"</p><p>Also Morty's like 15 or 16ish and Rick's like 19 or 20 so it's still underage so keep that in mind pls!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rickest Rick and the Mortyest Morty

Lugging the last of the boxes into the ship, the bottles clink together in a way that causes Morty to freeze up and listen as hard as he can for signs of any of his family members waking up. When he hears nothing, he sighs out in relief and sets it down in the back on top of several other various boxes and crates containing alcohol and drugs of every conceivable type.

He nearly jumps out of his skin as Rick comes up behind him, voice slightly smoother but still deep and growly. The only different he still notices (and it’s really just an offhand observation) is that Rick’s slightly taller than he’d been before the crash, no longer as shrunken by old age.

“H-HeEURGH- Hey shit- y-you little shit, are- is this good, are we done?” His hands are still damp as he semi-affectionately flicks Morty’s ear hard enough that he squeaks in mild irritation and turns around to stick his tongue out at the taller.

“J-Jesus-! Rick, y-y-you- you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day, y-you know that? God, I- I-I’m only like, a few years younger than you, i-it’s a real thre- p-possibility of happening!” He crosses his arms, attempting to keep up at least a semi-seriously angry pout, but it cracks into a dopey grin as Rick scruffs his hair gently. “...i-it’s all loaded up, just- j-just get in the ship,” he says with a snort before walking around to get into the passenger’s seat, his ears popping ever so slightly as Rick gets into the other side and slams the door shut with renewed strength, not like he’d lost very much to begin with.

Rick snorts and mutters something under his breath, taking a quick sip from his flask and making a face as he’s reminded that his tastebuds are much more functional than usual, leaving him to ponder over whether he wants to ‘fix’ this thing or leave it as it was.

Morty’s in the same train of thought, pondering over just what about Rick might’ve changed aside from the obvious height change and his newly-styled hair, and of course that brings his mind to relive that night, exactly two weeks and two days ago. He still remembers as though it’d just happened, and if he concentrates hard enough, he can make himself believe that the way Rick had stared at his body, then at Morty’s, wasn’t just for comparison, that the shock made him drop some facade that kept Rick from showing that he liked Morty much more than just as a grandson, but he knows it’s not real. It doesn’t stop him from fantasizing, late at night when not even Rick’s awake.

 

_“M-MoURG- Morty, we- y-you did good, Mort- Morty, ‘m- I’m glad you’re- w-we should celebrate, this- th-thish- this’s a huge ash- achievement,” Rick slurs out, absolutely shitfaced drunk and laughing every few minutes in a way that’s more genuine than Morty’s ever heard._

_The sound brings a smile to his lips, and he nods, holding a slightly shaking hand out for the beer that Rick’s sloshed at least half of over his own body, blue shirt now soaked in several places and drool running down his chin as he drives the ship in a swaying, jerky fashion that would’ve made Morty freak out and probably nauseous in the past. He prides himself on how much he’s changed as he quickly chugs down half the bottle of beer, knowing that it’ll taste gross, and this action, oddly enough, doesn’t go unnoticed by Rick, whom promptly slaps Morty on the back and slurs out something that sounds like a compliment, or perhaps it was just a loud, articulate grunt of approval._

_He doesn’t know what happened, but time seems to skip (or maybe he’s such a lightweight that he’s starting to get drunk off of that half beer, or maybe it was four beers) and suddenly they’re going at near-full speed towards the garage. Rick opens the door, laughing as the wind blows his hair back and makes it look even crazier, half-falling out, and he’s still giggling even as he slams into a (thankfully) wooden shelf that cracks into splinters and chunks of wood as several bottles of chemicals splash down onto Rick. Nothing seems to happen up until Rick opens his mouth, letting a few drops of some obscure mixture of several of the now-broken test tubes that’d been sitting on the shelf run into his mouth._

_Morty shrieks as he sees Rick crash, head slamming into the dashboard as a gash splits across one of his eyebrows, a horrible headache almost instantly starting up even as his eye stings from the blood starting to run into it. Then he sees Rick’s body start to jerk, spasming in several places, and Rick’s laughing and he knows it’s not funny, he needs to find out what that hospital was that saved Jerry from dying when he’d been shot, but he starts laughing too, nearly hysterically even as he sees Rick’s bones stretching, several loud cracks and pops echoing throughout the room as Rick’s hair grows a few inches and fills in the bald spot._

_In about five minutes but what feels like five seconds, Rick’s standing, old-age lines faded from his now very youthful face and having grown at least a few inches, and Morty feels like he’s 14 again because the height difference is just as insane as it had been when he was 14 and when Rick was...older?_

_Then Morty has a faceful of Rick as the taller stares into his eyes, brow furrowed in unhidden concern and confusion at his own body’s changes. He’s still drunk as hell, but even he seems to realize that whatever had just happened isn’t exactly normal, not even for someone who does as much crazy shit as Rick does._

_A few, tense moments pass of Rick being too close, and Morty’s just started worrying that he might do something stupid, like surge up to kiss his grandfather as hard as he possibly could from this angle when Rick clears his throat and moves back, scratching at the back of his head and nearly getting his hand tangled in the messy, slightly-darker blue locks as he avoids Morty’s gaze. “W-Well, this- this is new. Gotta- b-better get used to me being hot- h-hotter, Morty,” he says with a sharp laugh, the sound amused and still slurring and maybe even a little bit relieved._

 

He’s shaken out of his...fond...reminiscing when an elbow jabs into his side sharply enough that he jumps and bumps his head onto the roof of the spaceship. “Ow, f-fuck!”

“M-Mort- Morty, we’re here,” Rick says, clearly holding back laughter but refusing to for the simple fact that he’s got a blunt clenched in-between his teeth and he doesn’t want to drop it, seeing as how it’s lit, and while he may have a lot of kinks that might be considered unorthodox, getting his dick burned while in front of some grimy-looking motel on some obscure planet in some shady dimension while in a spaceship with his grandson is not one of them. He turns to grab as many packages of beer as he can carry, which is an almost ridiculous amount, due to the fact that he doesn’t tire as easily anymore and he’s a little bit stronger.

Morty rolls his eyes, grinning as he grabs the rest of the boxes and stumbles into the lobby after Rick, panting hard as Rick calmly states that he’d like a room for the next 48 Earth hours. The duck-billed, chicken-esque alien shrugs and nods, handing Rick a room key that he ends up sticking into a slot on top of one of the beer cases. Rick nods curtly in thanks, managing to toss several bills of what’s definitely not human currency onto the desk before going up to the room on the card attached to the key, then kicks it open and drops the boxes onto the ground with a soft grunt of relief.

He stretches, and Morty does his best not to stare at the bit of skin that’s exposed with the action, half-crushing his toe with the edge of a box due to being so distracted by staring at Rick. ‘ _Shit, I’ve gotta be less obvious about this,_ ’ Morty thinks to himself, head snapping up at the sound of a noisy exhale, followed by the cloud of weed smoke that Rick blows out in his general direction.

Eyes already half-lidded and a little bit red, Rick laughs and pops the tab on a can of beer, holding up a bag that’s absolutely stuffed with weed that he’d gotten out of seemingly nowhere. “M-Mort- Morty, grab a- grab some beers an- a-and sit over here, yoUUU- y-you little shit,” Rick says with a drawled-out laugh, seeming confused for a moment before shrugging and taking another hit off of the blunt he’s holding almost hilariously daintily. Reaching into one of the boxes, he pulls out a few shards of Crystal Kalaxian, tossing them onto the bed before sitting at the foot of it. Morty recognizes them from the ridiculous party that Rick had thrown, and he can’t help but to find himself wondering what it’s like to get high off of anything that Rick’s done. Surely it must be nice, if Rick keeps doing it?

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he snorts and nods, grabbing a few bottles of beer and tossing them onto the bed behind Rick, taking care not to break the crystals (yet) before sitting next to him, resting his head on the taller’s shoulder and taking a pull from the beer he’s just opened, fingers still a bit red from the lid. Rick takes notice of this and grabs Morty’s hand, snorting and waving it a bit.

“God, Morty, y-you- you’re so- your hands are so sof- b-babyish,” he says, stumbling over his words but acting like he hadn’t just said something that could be taken in a way that he ‘didn’t’ mean.

Morty’s cheeks go bright red and he pulls his hand away, wiping the condensation that’d been on the beer bottle onto Rick’s neck and laughing as the older shudders and moves away a bit. “Th-That’s what you get for-” He hiccups rather loudly, laughing more at how sudden it was before continuing, “F-For being an ass ab- about my ‘soft’ hands, Rick!”

Rick laughs and smacks his shoulder, slurring out something like ‘l-little shit, too cocky for yer- y-your own good, y’know that?’ before passing Morty the half-gone blunt and tripping over to get a smoky grey bong out of the same box he’d gotten the crystals out of and starting to pack it with weed from the bag that he sets on his lap for safekeeping. “S-Smoke- try smokin- try that, Morty, it’s- i-it’s the good kush, good shit,” he slurs out, grinning as he gets out a lighter with hands that are still calloused, still shaking but he somehow manages to get it lit.

“D-Didn’t know you’d become such a lightweight,” Morty says with a giggle, clearing the ashes from the blunt with a dainty tap of his finger that draws Rick’s attention for a brief moment, and for whatever reason, Rick blushes and says nothing, shrugging as he focuses on inhaling from the bong and exhaling a cloud that’s even thicker than it had been before.

“Hey- hey MoURGHty, come- c-c’mere, I wanna- try this, th-this thing with me,” Rick stammers out, knocking over the can of beer that’d been perched precariously on the bed next to him, but he doesn’t seem to give two shits about the dark stain that’s spreading over the already-filthy carpet as Morty comes over, curiosity shining in his slowly more and more heavy-lidded eyes. Rick takes the blunt, takes in the rest of it in one go before tossing it off to the side and grabbing Morty by the back of his neck to pull him in so close that their lips are hardly centimeters apart. He exhales, giving the shorter a look that says ‘just go with it, trust me’, and Morty nods, closing his eyes and inhaling the pungent smoke that Rick’s just blown out.

A rush goes through his body, and his eyes snap back open as the high really starts to set in, a soft giggle bubbling up out of him before he can really stop it, just like how he can’t really stop himself from pushing Rick over and how he can’t stop himself from kissing the taller, and it seems that Rick can’t stop it either because suddenly Rick’s on top of him and they’re grinding so hard that it almost hurts his sudden boner.

“Ghhn, Rick, fuck,” Morty gasps out as Rick retains the bruisingly hard grip he’s got on Morty’s hips, and he falters briefly in his movements so that Morty’s able to flip them again, the light shining behind his head making him seem like an angel to Rick, albeit a high, drunken angel. Then Morty starts moving his hips again, his head tossed back as he moans at the friction, and normally he’d be so terrified, because this is Rick, but he doesn’t _feel_ like Morty’s grandfather, he doesn’t seem like nearly as much of an asshole, and he’s also moaning like a bitch and bucking up against Morty hard enough that they’re both gasping for breath that keeps escaping them in sharp grunts of effort.

“M-My- Morty, fuck,” Rick groans out, easing up his grip but his fingers tighten again as Morty whimpers out his name in a sound so gorgeous that he nearly forgets to be nervous. Nearly. He pulls back a bit, looking into Morty’s eyes and cheeks still bright red from exertion and from embarrassment as Morty stares back in mild confusion at the slowed pace.

Then it clicks in his mind what Rick had just said, and before he can stop it, he’s bucking his hips harder, faster, groaning as he moves up a bit to start giving Rick as many hickies as he can, almost as if claiming him. “Mnh, y-your, y-you’re my- a-am I your Morty, R-Rick?” He mumbles it against the other’s sweaty skin, the taste of salt on his tongue not grossing him out like he’d expected, but instead it makes him moan all the louder, dick pulsing with how turned on he is because it’s such a _Rick_ taste, this is Rick that he’s grinding down against, this is _his Rick_ that he’s got grasping at his hips so hard that he can feel the bruises starting to purple on too-soft, creamy white skin. He doesn’t find himself minding.

He groans at the intensity, and it’s too much too quick, and he thinks he can feel several crystals cracking under his back, but he can’t find himself caring, not one bit as he moves his arms up to wrap around Morty’s shoulders and he can leave several hickies, a few drops of blood running from areas he’d bitten down onto too hard, and it’s clear that he’d been much rougher than Morty, and he pretends that it’s because he got caught in the moment, and not because he finds the angry, raised marks attractive in a way that’s a little bit fucked-up because it makes him feel like Morty’s his and his alone. “M-My Morty,” he moans out, trailing his hands down to the hem of Morty’s shirt before shoving it up and over his head, exposing a thin chest that’s soon littered with various bitemarks and hickies. “My Morty, m-mmnghfuck, m-my Morty,” Rick grunts out, leaning up to kiss Morty hard enough that someone’s lip is caught and the bitter taste of blood invades the both of their mouths.

Morty jerks as his nipples are licked and sucked, the swell of pleasure that’d been growing in his gut reaching a point where it’s almost unbearable for him to have to slow down and mumble into Rick’s ear, “A-Am I your- y-your best, your o-on- only Morty, Rick? I-I wanna be your- y-yours, your only Morty,” before he moves to give Rick more hickies, almost as if it’s a battle, a competition to see who’s more marked up, who will be more sore when they wake up, reeking of sex and weed and wrongness that neither can fix and won’t bother trying to. “R-Rick, _fuck_ , Rick, I- I-I’m- I’m gonna- t-too much,” he chokes out, gasping harder and unable to stop himself from slumping so that his hands are resting on either side of Rick’s head and his grandpa’s able to surge up to kiss him hard, and his lip stings so he guesses he’s the one that’s bleeding. He can’t find himself minding it very much, and in fact, he’s even grateful for it because it’s so _sensitive_ and wonderful whenever Rick runs his tongue over the wound, almost as if apologizing for it. 

“M-Morty, you- you’re my- m-my only Morty,” Rick manages to gasp out, grunting and sweating hard from the effort of keeping up the brutally hard and fast pace that they’ve had going on for the past few minutes. When he feels Morty’s dick twitch, he can’t help but to gasp and buck up, kissing him again and slobbering all over the shorter’s mouth as cum spurts from his dick, staining through his boxers and the front of his pants, a dark patch now on his crotch as he continues to buck up against Morty. “C-Cum- cum for me, M-Mort- Morty, such a good boy, m-my good boy, my good Morty,” he groans out into Morty’s ear, voice rough and he sounds absolutely _wrecked_.

A shrill cry of Rick’s name leaves him at Rick’s words, the wetness of cum that isn’t his smearing against his dick and causing him to reach his own orgasm as well. He’s panting hard as he slows down, shaking as he collapses on top of Rick and stays there for a few moments, simply trying to catch his breath and the last strands of jizz soaking into his boxers. Then a breathy giggle escapes him and he looks up, practically purring with exhausted, drunken, high contentment. “Y-You- you really, r-really meant that, Rick?” His voice is breathy, rough, almost exactly as Rick had when he’d growled out his claim of Morty being his and his alone.

Rick chuckles and nods, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of chocolate brown hair behind Morty’s ear, then wiping their foreheads off, flicking the sweat off elsewhere so that he can tangle his hands into the back of Morty’s head and kiss him sweetly, almost passionately, but Rick doesn’t do passionate, so instead it’s loving, with filthy implications that he’ll be doing this again. “Of course I did, y-you little shit. Ricks never- they don’t lie when- wh-when it’s- this kinda shit,” he says, shrugging. “A-Although, it- I-I am a bit ashamed, mostly because it took me being, what, thirty years younger? Yeah, whatever, t-took me being like, your age, t-to admit that I want you as mine. O-Or maybe I just let it slip by accident, stupid awkward h-hor- hormones and shit. I-I did _not_ miss being a teenager,” Rick says with a soft chuckle, a yawn following soon after. “Whatever, let’s- l-let’s just- sleep, I brought- w-we can go buy extra clothes,” he mutters, pulling Morty up a bit and doing his best to ignore the now-cold cum smearing in his boxers, and he knows he’ll regret falling asleep like this in the morning, but for now, Morty’s the only thing that matters and Morty clearly needs to rest after something so taxing.

He smiles and nods, making a face as he’s moved but sighing happily as he buries his face into the crook of Rick’s neck, kissing at one of the harsher hickies he’d left before yawning and letting his eyelids flutter shut. “Mmh, th-the Rickest Rick, an- and, th-the Mortyest...M-Mortyest Morty, right?” He slurs out the question, a snore rising up from him not more than seconds after he’s said it.

Rick whispers something that’s most likely a confirmation, a soft smile curling across plump, bitten lips as he gently touches at the bruises on Morty’s hips. “Mnh…’t would go without saying, Morty,” he mumbles, unconscious before his muscles finish relaxing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr's kinkykankri, gimme requests and fic ideas pls!!


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